


ghosting

by kujos



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ashe-centric, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Light Angst, also only tagging characters w lines, but i don't think its enough to warrant an archive warning!, slightly canon divergent, there's some descriptions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 19:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20953451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kujos/pseuds/kujos
Summary: "What disturbed him most wasn’t the blood. It was the dark shadow that hung over Lonato’s body. Ashe’s bow thumped onto the ground, and he threw a glance over his shoulder. He could see the shadows hanging over everyone else now, too. Lonato’s hearty laugh played in his ears, and he could practically feel him clapping him on the shoulder when--"a look at how ashe might've dealt with the grief from the battle at magdred, plus what he was up to during the 5 years at war.





	ghosting

There were too many familiar faces on the battlefield. The baker who had slipped Ashe free cookies when he was a child brandished a lance, his hold shaky. The town’s tailor, who mended Ashe’s torn shirts with patches in the shapes of flowers and bears, held a bow, a hastily sewn quiver slung over her shoulder. The fog had been obscuring them, but as soon as Catherine’s sword slammed down on the mage hiding among the trees, the mist lifted. Ashe almost wished that it had stayed, even if it meant he was shooting blindly. At least then, he wouldn’t know who the shouts and screams belonged to. He shrunk back, watching the professor swing her sword in a swift arc and tear a bloody line into the baker’s chest. 

An arrow whizzed by at that moment, impaling itself into the professors calf. She muttered a curse, and Ashe swallowed, already knowing the command was coming. “I’m sorry,” she told him softly, before raising her hand and signalling to the woman who shot at her. Ashe closed his eyes as he fired, but he knew his arrow found it’s mark from the awful sound that erupted from the woman. She choked and sputtered, before hitting the ground with a thump. Before he could look at the aftermath, the professor was slinging an arm over his shoulder and guiding him away. Sylvain’s horse trotted up beside them, blocking the view. Ashe wasn’t sure if it was intentional or just Sylvain being Sylvain, making the right moves by accident. The sad smile he flashed at Ashe indicated the latter. 

Shouting erupted from in front of them, where Dimitri and Dedue stood. Ashe couldn’t see Lonato; he was obscured by the axe wielding townsfolk that he had ordered to stand in front of him. But he could hear his shouting. It seemed he had started arguing with Dimitri when the fog lifted. Ashe couldn’t make out the words, but he could hear the anger in Lonato’s voice. Doubt rose up in him again. As kind of a man he was, Lonato wasn’t one to stray from his ideals. If he truly believed something was right, he would die for it. From that anger, he knew Lonato was fully convinced his actions were correct. 

Dedue shielded a clumsy axe swing aimed at Dimitri, and already the professor was tugging Ashe along. They advanced from behind Sylvain, Mercedes bringing up the rear as she threw out a healing spell towards the professor. The professor shot out a blast of flames at the man who swung at Dimitri, skidding to a stop a few steps behind the prince. The man’s armor warmed to a burning red, searing the grass on the ground where he fell. She gave Ashe a quick glance, signalling to the other armored man flanking Dimitri and Dedue. 

He knew he wasn’t going to be much use flinging arrows at civilians in heavy armor, but nodded and loosed a shot nonetheless. It dinged uselessly against the armor, but in the distraction Sylvain rode up and drove his lance into the man’s chest. The metal bent easily under the pressure of his relic, and the helmet on his head toppled off. Ashe wished he hadn’t looked, recognizing that face all too quickly. It was House Gaspard’s book keeper. He had sat on his lap in the library at Lonato’s manor, learning to read with him. His choke seared itself into Ashe’s brain, remembering when that voice would repeat the words Ashe had trouble with over and over until Ashe could pronounce it himself. He shook his head, hoping it might shake the thoughts away too. 

The professor moved the rest of his classmates forward, the path to Lonato now clear. She turned to Ashe, “If you want to reason with him, now’s your chance.” Ashe nodded, grateful that the professor continued to indulge his requests. He stepped past Dimitri, trying to stand tall in front of his adoptive father. 

“Please surrender, Lonato. I’m sure we can find a way to figure this out,_ without _ violence.”

“Stand down, Ashe. I have to do away with these evil-doers by any means necessary.” 

Ashe glanced around. Evildoers? How could a bunch of students be branded as _ evildoers? _ His confused expression was enough of a reply for Lonato, who marched on with his speech. 

“How can you not understand? Rhea is destroying the sanctimony of the church. If you fight for her, you fight against me.” 

“Even if that is the case, how can you justify dragging the townsfolk into this? They’re civilians!” 

“I’ve heard enough. If we can’t agree, we must decide through battle.” 

Ashe couldn’t protest further, the professor waving Dimitri forward and taking her own place in front of Ashe. The prince marched onward, ever the picture of his training. All it took was a practiced jab, and suddenly blood was gushing from Lonato’s neck. His horse startled, rearing up and throwing Lonato’s body to the ground. Ashe’s hands shook, his bow suddenly felt heavy. Blood was soaking the ground. The white flowers that dotted the grass were getting dyed red. Distantly, he could hear Ingrid catch the horse’s reigns and calm him. 

What disturbed him most wasn’t the blood. It was the dark shadow that hung over Lonato’s body. Ashe’s bow thumped onto the ground, and he threw a glance over his shoulder. He could see the shadows hanging over everyone else now, too. Lonato’s hearty laugh played in his ears, and he could practically feel him clapping him on the shoulder when-

“Ashe, are you okay?” 

It was Sylvain, his own hand on Ashe’s shoulder. Concern played over his face as he leaned over Ashe, yet again blocking out the view of a corpse that Ashe didn’t want to see. His brain stuttered for a moment, trying to come up with words, finally settling on just nodding. 

“I- Sorry. I think I’m gonna go check the village to see if my brother and sister are safe.” Sylvain opened his mouth, but Ashe was already turning, trying not to break into a sprint towards the village. 

* * *

His head banged onto his headboard as he unceremoniously woke from his dream, but when he tried to sit up, he found his body heavy. Ah, this again too? Ashe sighed, forcing himself to stare up at the ceiling, instead of looking around his room, where he knew he would see Lonato looming over him, blood staining his neck. 

The first few times this happened, Ashe panicked. Not being able to move at all, forced to just sit there while all his dead loved ones stood over him, asking him why. Why didn’t you try harder? Why didn’t you stay home? Why did you leave all of us, in this foolish pursuit of becoming a knight? Maybe if you had stayed, you would have caught on. Maybe if you had stayed, you would have been on the other side of that fight, protecting us. 

It had been a year since that battle. Ashe wasn’t sure whether to curse himself for begging the professor to let him go, or if he was glad he went and tried to reason with Lonato. He got the feeling he would be stuck with this guilt no matter what he had done. If he had stayed at the monastery, he would never be able to stop asking himself if Lonato would have lived if he was there to talk it out with him. 

He wiggled his fingers, surprised to see that the paralysis was already wearing off. The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and threw on a housecoat anyways. Sitting in the living room with a book would be better than choking in the darkness of his room. 

* * *

The door slamming into its adjacent wall is what shook Ashe out of his nap, rubbing his eyes and blearily looking to his sister. Snow dusted her shoulders, but she was shoving a letter into Ashe’s hands before he could comment on it. A familiar symbol was stamped into the wax seal, two jagged shapes that almost looked like hand axes. 

The letter was brief, penned in deep blue ink. Ashe’s sister read it over his shoulder, their eyes scanning over it at the same speed. 

_ “To whom it may concern. I have received word from Fhirdiad of the passing of Prince Dimitri Blaiddyd. He has been executed for the treasonous murder of his uncle, Grand Duke Rufus. The royal mage, Cornelia has assumed control of the capital, and is supporting the Empire in their quest.” _

Ashe tried to quell the tremor in his hands, noticing a messy note on the corner of the letter. The ink was different, a standard black that you could find anywhere, and the handwriting was hard to read. Ashe had plenty of practice reading that writing though, from all the notes passed into his hands during class back in the monastery. 

_ “Ashe, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you all this in person. Cornelia is waging war on all the houses still opposing the Empire. I’m stuck at home defending our borders. Don’t worry though. I know our Prince wouldn’t fall so easily, and neither will the rest of us. Send word if you catch wind of where he’s ended up. _

_ _ \- Sylvain” _ _

“Oh no…” Ashe’s sister rubbing his shoulder brought him back to the present. She looked down at him, wearing an expression of pity that she usually reserved for the runaway animals that showed up on their doorstep. “Are you gonna be okay?” 

Ashe folded up the letter, sliding it between the pages of the book he had been reading before he nodded off. He didn’t even know what to say. Dimitri? Dead? The man who could crush people’s skulls with his bare hands? There was no way Dimitri would let himself get killed before even getting close to ending Edelgard. The doubt still lingered, against all reason, and Ashe simply nodded to his sister before heading off to his room. 

* * *

Ashe was trudging through a messy battlefield, kicking up dirt with his heels. House Fraldarius had called every ally they could imagine, still holding on to their territory despite the Empire’s best efforts. Everyone’s morale was low ever since the news of Dimitri’s execution, but surrendering to the Empire would be an insult to his memory. At least, that’s what Rodrigue told Ashe when he arrived. 

Ashe never expected a letter from Felix of all people, but he was unsurprised when his scrawling script was a simple _ “We need reinforcements. I know you aren’t doing anything important. Come.” _

He wanted to be offended, but he couldn’t deny it. House Gaspard didn’t have any soldiers, so Cornelia hadn’t bothered with them. He had avoided fighting in this war for three years, busying himself with cleaning up the messes that bandit skirmishes left behind. Bringing orphaned children to safe homes, putting out fires, feeding stray cats. 

Now, he was in a dusty plain, on the outskirts of Fraldarius territory. They had set up their front line as far up as they could risk, but the Empire was pushing them back as harder with each day. Things finally felt like they were turning in their favor when- 

A hand axe flew past his head, nicking his ear. He clicked his tongue, swinging around to see where it came from. An imperial soldier in hulking armor stood about 30 feet away, barking a laugh when he saw the blood drip from Ashe’s ear. 

“Throw it back here, I’ll take yer head off next time!” he hollered, throwing his gauntlet covered hand up in a wave. Ashe felt bad for him when he slung his second bow off his shoulder, one the professor had bought for him back when he was still at the academy. He was never adept at magic, but he could feel the enchantment pulsing beneath his fingertips when he nocked an arrow and aimed at the man’s chest. The man started to laugh again, obviously not used to seeing an archer try to take him head on. Typically, arrows just fall uselessly against such thick armor. 

The arrow flew right into his chest piece, letting out a loud crack of thunder. Electricity lit up his armor, and soon enough he was on the ground. His fingers were still twitching when Ashe walked up to him to say a short prayer to the goddess. He cringed away from the shadow that rose up from him. He should be used to it by now, they seemed to crowd the battlefield. Every arrow that found its mark left another ghost wailing in Ashe’s ear. 

He hoped that praying over each of them would quiet them down, but it seemed to make some of them angrier. This man in particular tried to grab his shirt and shake him, his ghostly fingers sliding through Ashe’s chest. He looked at his hands again then, getting more and more frustrated. 

“What are you doing?” 

Ashe looked over his shoulder, as Felix leaned down over him to look at the corpse on the ground. “That magic bow definitely makes quick work of armored units.” 

He stood back up, stretching his arms behind his head nonchalantly. Blood dripped from his sword from its place within its scabbard. Ashe stood up as well, brushing the dirt off his knees.

“I was praying for him,” he wanted to elaborate, but everything sounded a bit too cheesy. He didn’t exactly want to bounce something like “I hope the Goddess will lead his soul to rest” off onto Felix. He was always hard to read, for Ashe. He didn’t have the added benefit of knowing him since childhood, unlike Sylvain, Ingrid, and Dimitri. Felix simply fixed him with another unreadable look, scanning him up and down as if he was trying to decide what he thought of him. He sighed, turning around to walk back towards their temporary camp.

Ashe glanced around the battlefield, seeing that all of the fighting had died down. They had won, for now. The Empire wasn’t going to just give up, but they wouldn’t keep sending troops to needlessly die here. Their message had been made. He slung his bow back over his shoulder, jogging to catch up with Felix.

* * *

Another two years seemed to fly past in an instant. Nervousness buzzed in his chest, but over that he was excited. He wasn’t sure if it was foolish to be making his way to the monastery now, but he didn’t know if he could forgive himself if he didn’t. The memory of promising to meet with his house members in five years was still bright in his mind, like it happened yesterday. He wished he could go back to that. Before Edelgard started this war and all of them got thrown across Fodlan. 

The rain didn’t let up by the time it was morning, so Ashe rode on in the storm. He was glad that he had held onto the habit of always wearing a hood, with it drawn up tight over his head and shielding his hair from the droplets. His horse didn’t seem happy to keep getting her hooves stuck in the mud, but walking would end up with him getting there more than just a bit late. The monastery was at the center of the region, a few days journey on foot from House Gaspard. He wasn’t quite sure his legs would be able to handle that, either. 

Hours on horseback made his back ache, but he could see the monastery now, still up between the mountains that intersected Fargheus, Adrestia, and Leicester. Even from here, he could see the battle damage. The cathedral’s high roof looked like it had a bite taken out of it, and the stairs up were crumbling. Night was falling, and Ashe wasn’t going to waste any more time than he had to. He tied his horse up to one of the few still standing trees at the base of the mountain, not wanting her to slip on the unsteady stairs, and made his way up them himself. 

The sounds of shouting made him speed up his pace, and he caught sight of a familiar shade of orange hair rounding a corner. They weren’t in the monastery proper yet, but it seemed thieves had made a home on this small outcropping shot off from the stairs. Ashe followed that orange head, although the clanking of armor gave it away that it wasn’t the person he had hoped for. He didn’t have time to give it much thought, skidding to a halt beside Gilbert as the battlefield came into view. Dimitri and the professor were surrounded by thieves, and while his highness didn’t seem especially worried, brandishing a spear that was absolutely rusted over with blood, the professor eyed around nervously. 

One by one, his old classmates returned. What seemed like a risky battle at first became like their school days, quickly taking out thieves while the professor called out orders. As soon as the last one was down, Ashe couldn’t even spare a glance at the shadows that were no doubt gathering. He ran over to the professor and pulled her into a hug, Annette and Mercedes quickly joining in. 

“Aw, this is like a family reunion.” Sylvain spoke right next to Ashe’s ear, wrapping himself into the hug as well. When they all pulled away, no one knew what to say. Ashe had a million thoughts, but none of the words. The professor was alive. Dimitri was alive. Everyone was here, smiling, laughing, living, except…

“Where’s Dedue?” Ashe’s question hung in the empty air, and he swore he saw a flash of anger in the prince’s eyes, over the professor’s shoulder. He snatched his lance up, pulling it out of a thief's chest with a horrible squelch. Everyone stared at him, but no one had any words to offer, instead just gaping as Dimitri gave them a final glare and stormed off. 

* * *

In the following weeks, it felt like every moment with the others was a challenge to see how much information Ashe could shove into his head. Dimitri spat out that Dedue had died to free him, yet another ghost on his shoulder. Annette explained that she had been putting out fires, both literally and not, in House Dominic territory, and Mercedes had been out in the backline of Kingdom battles, healing as many people as she could. Sylvain put on a cheery smile for his former classmates, but Ashe was no stranger to the dark circles and caught on quickly. Ingrid had managed to escape marriage in these five years, and Ashe was glad to see her pegasus was still with her. Felix was much the same as he was when Ashe last saw him, although he seemed especially perturbed at Dimitri’s change in demeanor. 

The professor was adamant on them continuing their lessons, insisting that now they could even teach her. Every moment that she didn’t spend mapping battle plans and instructing, she spent in the cathedral. Dimitri was refusing to speak to anyone about anything besides battles, but that didn’t hold her back. She would fall asleep standing up before she would let Dimitri close himself off completely. 

She had done just that, when Ashe happened upon her a few months after they all reunited. She was leaning back against one of the pillars, just a little ways away from Dimitri. Her shoulders sagged, her head resting against the cold stone. The brown leaf resting atop her head told Ashe she had been dozing for a while, and he considered whether to wake her or not. He was sure she wasn’t sleeping much, and the reason he came up here was starting to feel a bit silly, in hindsight…

“Ashe?” 

The professor stifled a yawn, shaking out her hair with one of her hands. Her gaze was still fuzzy, holding onto the last dregs of sleep, but it was intense nonetheless. She blinked up at him, making Ashe remember he did in fact come here with a purpose. 

“Professor! My apologies, I didn’t mean to wake you-” She silenced him with a nonchalant wave of her hand. 

“No worries, if I wanted a restful sleep I wouldn’t be sleeping here.” She stretched her arms, stealing a quick glance at Dimitri’s back. His awful mood was palpable from the entrance to the cathedral, so it was even worse from here. The heavy atmosphere almost reminded Ashe of his sleep paralysis, yet somehow worse. At least then, he could explain it away as just bad dreams. 

“Did you want to ask me something?” 

“Ah, yes. You see, uh…” He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to have this conversation within earshot of Dimitri. “Actually, could we talk over tea?” 

She frowned, tapping her foot for a moment. The professor wasn’t usually such an open book, but she couldn’t stop looking over to Dimitri. “Give me one minute,” she told Ashe, marching over to the prince one more time. Ashe couldn’t hear what she said to Dimitri when she placed a hand lightly onto his arm, but he was sure everyone in the cathedral could hear what Dimitri said in response. 

He threw his arm up, making the professor stumble back in response. “How many times do I have to tell you? Stay _ away _ from me!” The way he bared his teeth at the professor, someone who he used to always look at with such admiration, made Ashe cringe. What had been going through his head these past years to make him end up like this? 

He expected the professor to look upset, but instead she just let out a loud sigh. She gave Dimitri one last scrutinizing look, then shook her head and walked past him. She snagged Ashe’s sleeve as she passed, and suddenly he was being dragged from the cathedral and towards the dining hall. Ashe remembered drinking tea in the garden with the professor many times, and he was surprised that it still seemed to be in good shape. It didn’t have the same variety as before, but many of the heartier flowers still bloomed. 

It seemed the professor had been anticipating an excuse to have tea with someone, crouching down beneath the table to retrieve the tea set she always cherished from a small box. He wasn’t even surprised when the aroma of mint wafted over from the small tin of tea leaves. She was always attentive to things like that, going out of her way to remember everyone’s favorite flavor of tea. She motioned for him to sit opposite her, beginning to pour tea into each of their cups. She preemptively put two cubes of sugar into Ashe’s, sliding it across the table to him. 

“Do you remember the ambush at Magdred?” She cringed at that, lowering her own cup of tea down before she actually took a sip. 

“I do.” 

“That’s what I wanted to speak with you about. You see…” Ashe cleared his throat, “I still see Lonato, and the townsfolk, sometimes.” 

Her cup clattered onto its saucer then, but she quickly recomposed herself. 

“They don’t… ask for heads on their graves, right?” 

“No! Oh Goddess, _ no. _” Ashe threw his hands up, attempting to wave away any of the professor’s worries. “It’s more, hm… It's more of them asking me why I didn’t save them.” 

Something clicked then, the nervousness in the professor’s eyes softening into understanding. “Ah.” 

“I had assumed that they would fade away with time, but… It’s been five years. I still remember the blood, and…” 

“It might never go away.” 

Ashe’s heart dropped. The professors blunt way of speaking was familiar now, but it didn't make it any easier to process a heavy statement like that.

“But the feelings of guilt could. Do you truly think your family would blame you?” 

“No, but-“ 

“If they haunt you, I’m sure it's out of desire to be remembered. Not because they want you to agonize over what you could have done differently.” 

* * *

Those words stuck with Ashe. It had been a while since he woke up and couldn’t move, usually he just crashed in bed late at night, and rolled out of it early in the morning. It seemed his brain didn’t even have time to conjure visions of guilt, when it was working overtime trying to keep track of battle plans and new lessons. This morning was different, the one after they had all returned from a victorious battle. The professor told them all to take the next day off to rest and do whatever they wished. 

When Ashe cracked his eyes open, it was still dark. Ah, well. He could always light a candle and read for a bit. Yet when he tried to turn, his arms didn’t cooperate. He squinted, trying to adjust his vision to the darkness of his room. A shadow in a familiar shape loomed over him. It brought its hand down to Ashe’s face, but instead of violence however, it simply ruffled his hair. Lonato used to do this when he got nightmares as a child, saying “it’s okay,” over and over until Ashe would fall back asleep, his head in Lonato’s lap. He felt a dip at the foot of his bed, and although he couldn’t see it with the angle of his head, he could imagine Lonato’s librarian there. He could hear his voice, reading out to him the story of Loog’s adventures for the hundredth time. For once, that voice didn’t fill him with regret. 

Lonato’s shadow leaned in closer to him, and Ashe realized he could actually make out the features of his face. Usually, the shadows he saw were dull, featureless, simple silhouettes that gave him just enough information to make him overthink his past actions. 

_ “It’s okay.” _

They were both gone, replaced by the sunlight streaming through the curtains. Ashe wasn’t sure how long he had been laying there, processing those two words, but when he finally dragged himself out of bed his shoulders felt lighter. The weight he had been carrying was replaced with a warm fuzziness in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> holy crap i struggled with this one. usually i slap together a fic in a few days, which is why most of them barely get over 1k, but with this one... oh boy did i get frustrated at myself. seriously hated my first draft, but after about a week i think i have something im happy with. hopefully yall enjoy it as well! and thanks as always to my bff for listening to me complain for a whole week about how much i hate my writing :~)


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